Multitasking Gone Awry

I have a little story to tell you, friends.

I was on my way to symphony rehearsal last night and my mom called to chat about the Thanksgiving dinner invitations I cooked up {no pun intended}. I couldn't help but notice a vehicle nearly parallel to me easing slowly into my lane. . . which was particularly inconvenient because I was right next to the sidewalk with no wiggle room. The SUV was pretty much just hovering on the dashed line. I "shot the gap" while I still had a lane to drive in, and went to shoot the person a crusty look {because I'm really nice like that}.

Well, she didn't see my crusty because she was too busy texting.

Ya'll-- don't text and drive. It's dumb. And you look dumb.

But anywhoo.

I pulled into the parking lot and finished up my conversation with my schmama while exiting my vehicular unit.

I remembered to grab my keys, purse, violin, and extra music stand. I was doin' good! I put my purse in the trunk {per my "symphony rehearsal protocol" so that someone doesn't glance in my windows and see my purse hanging out, asking to be stolen} and made my way into the building. I was pretty proud of myself for not face planting it despite walking through a very wet parking lot in flip flops. It was a close call a time or two and I may have squealed like a small school girl when I slid a few inches. . . but I made it in one piece.

I put my phone in my violin case {again, per "symphony rehearsal protocol" so that I don't lose it or sit on it or something equally detrimental} and thought "Oh, my keys belong in here, too. Keys. Keys. Where are my--- uh oh."

Since I'm not very good at multitasking anyway, let alone with a child sucking any remaining brain cells, I deviated from my tried-and-true protocol and put my keys in my purse. Before locking it in the trunk. Where it's safe.

Very safe.

Yes.

I texted my husband and told of my plight, to which he was sympathetic but unable to help. I had the only car seat and the only set of keys in my oh-so-safely locked vehicle.

Crappers.

Thank goodness for AAA Roadside Assistance, ya'll.

After rehearsal I gave them a jingle and told them that I needed to break into my car. . . but my AAA card was locked in the car, too.

They asked for my name and address to verify my account, but both our new address and old address didn't pull anything up. What the?!

So there I was-- hanging out in the cold, wet, dark parking lot while trying to get the blasted AAA lady to talk above a whisper because I couldn't hear her for the life of me. She had to repeat each question at least four times but no matter how many times I asked her, she didn't talk any louder.

Oh, well.

That's not important.

What's important is that a warm-hearted oboist saw me and asked if he could stay with me until they came to rescue me. By that time I was starting to feel my toes freezing off and my small jacket was frighteningly insufficient to keep me and my massive belly covered, so I was thankful for his offer.

We visited in his warm car about a myriad of things, but not the least of which is how our conductor {bless her heart} conducts Vivaldi a lot like Rachmaninoff.

At long last I was rescued and allowed to shimmy into my vehicle and slink home with my tail between my legs. After nearly 4 years of owning that vehicle, I finally managed to lock myself out. . . which is quite the feat considering that you have to physically lock the car door with the key. Those car designers probably thought they had considered every possibility. . . but they had yet to come across a pregnant Jessica talking on the phone while trying to multitask.

That'll teach 'em.

So I suppose the moral of this story is 1) don't trash talk the lady texting on her phone that almost runs you off the road if you plan on making a fool of yourself, too. 2) don't try and multitask unless you're certified. :)



{photo source}